CAMBRIDGE – “The Glass Menagerie” is famously Tennessee Williams' “memory” play, and director John Tiffany's production at American Repertory Theater beautifully captures the ephemeral nature of looking back at an earlier time of life just as it also captures the isolation of this broken family in 1930s St. Louis.

There are no apartment walls here, as are so often used in staging this 1945 classic; no doors, no dishes, no actual photo – mentioned several times – of the wandering father and telephone man who abandoned his wife and children long ago. There is not even a menagerie of glass animals for fragile sister Laura to lovingly tend, except for the unicorn so key to her nature and to her encounter one night with the Gentleman Caller.

To a wistful, music-box-like soundtrack by Clive Goodwin, Tiffany and set designer Bob Crowley have – based on a theme mentioned in Williams' production notes – created the barest outlines of a remembered long-ago home. Two rounded platforms create a looped infinity symbol, and domineering, desperate mother Amanda (Cherry Jones), restless son Tom (Zachary Quinto) and dreamer daughter Laura (Celia Keenan-Bolger) are trapped here in a round-and-round track of the same stories, the same arguments, the same worries, the same disappointments. Through Natasha Katz's lighting, this family led by a Southern woman unhappily transplanted to the North is surrounded by darkness and emptiness. They are adrift – both in nostalgic reflection and by their own failings – in a state that Tiffany has said he wants to seem like floating in a galaxy.

What will likely be most debated by audience members about this interpretation is a pool of water surrounding the platforms to enhance that effect of drifting as well as reflection. It takes a few scenes to realize that the void characters peer at or are careful not to step off into is actually water, and the mirror aspect of the device is likely most successful for people sitting in higher seats who can experience the full effect.

Dominating the skyline of this expressionistic view is a tall fire escape, reaching to the ceiling in multiple, ever-smaller levels. It is the only way out of this apartment and – for Tom – away from this life. Tiffany has also likened its shape to the all-important horn of the glass unicorn. Or to a lightning bolt – which is certainly the level of dramatic effect that the vital, optimistic energy of the Gentleman Caller (Brian J. Smith) has on the claustrophobic atmosphere of the apartment and family.

Matriarch Amanda Wingfield – who fills every possible silence with chatter, nags or plans – is a tour de force opportunity for Jones, a founding member and longtime actress at A.R.T. who went on to Broadway, TV and film acclaim (“Doubt,” “The Heiress,” TV's “24.”) Jones has widely talked about resisting playing this part at first, but she excels at translating this woman of a genteel upbringing forced into harsher realities. Hers is a stronger, more forceful Amanda than some interpretations, a fiercely protective mother with less vulnerability and more dogged determination.

There is also more humor here under Tiffany's hand, a much-needed counterpoint to the poignancy of this story, and Amanda's relationship with Tom is a credible mix of emotions that includes a fond ribbing as well as fireworks. Jones and Quinto can believably joke and tease as mother and son while railing ferociously against each other in other scenes. People may be more familiar with Quinto's dark side on TV (“Heroes,” “American Horror Story”) or controlled emotions as Spock in the rebooted “Star Trek” film franchise, but his Tom – a semi-autobiographical stand-in for Williams – thrills with a nuanced, wide-ranging performance. So many gestures and expressions register Tom's urge to flee his responsibility for his mother and disabled sister, but he is also so conflicted by his love and worry for them. He regrets the need to get away to save himself, but is also almost giddy when he finally makes the decision to chase his own dreams despite the sacrifice.

Keenan-Bolger (Broadway's “Peter and the Starcatcher”) is a wrenching Laura, taking the neuroses that keep her from getting a job or otherwise joining the adult world past mere paralyzing shyness, dreaminess and a limp. She seems to possibly even suffer from a mental disorder as she stares into space or curls miserably into herself. Laura lights up, though, at the attention of Smith's breath-of-fresh-air caller when Tom brings his co-worker home for dinner. She is a flower opening to the caller's infectious grin and laugh, breezy and open manner, and American-style faith in bettering yourself for a wide-open future.

Our seats at Wednesday's opening allowed a full view of Smith's electric performance, but Keenan-Bolger's back was to us for much of the key scene between the two, and I wished for a better look at Laura's expressions to get a good read on how this encounter might change her life. Jones told The Boston Globe that she could only consider the sadness of “The Glass Menagerie” by telling herself a story of Laura's later happiness beyond the confines of this script, and Jones' version of the future is something to hold on to when Keenan-Bolger's so-reticent Laura breaks your heart.

With Tiffany and the designers coming from the Broadway success of “Once” (also born at A.R.T.) and with the star power of the cast, this is another event production for the Cambridge theater. As the first Williams play ever done at A.R.T., “Glass Menagerie” also represents another reinterpretation of a favorite (following “Pippin” and “Porgy and Bess”) that shows yet again that – with the right guides – there are many rewarding ways to look at classic works. Will this production move beyond Cambridge, like the others? No one is saying yet, but this production certainly deserves wider attention.